


The Sea Calls

by TrishaCollins



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 14:29:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11038086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: The sea can be a pushy mistress.





	The Sea Calls

Grandfather's visits were infrequent, sometimes he would come every few weeks, with letters and gifts and greetings from his father.

Sometimes it was longer. He felt like he could measure the frequency of the visits by the roughness of the seas.

When the storms howled, when the sky stayed red, when ships that went out didn't come back....

Then grandfather would be slow to come. The cook would whisper soft prayers over her cooking pots, and mother would frown and watch her fleet bob in the harbor.

Mother never sent ships out when Grandfather was away. She must know it as well.

The ships that went out when the sky was red never came back. The dusk would flash green, and he would know his father was needed.

Which meant his grandfather was needed.

He missed his grandfather when he stayed away, when the seas were choked with those who needed guidence.

He had never met his father, so he couldn't miss him. But he did the same.

His father sent letters and presents, his father sent stories and hugs with his grandfather, and his grandfather gave them as kindly as he could.

But it wasn't the same. His father was a story, a story that everyone told him, except that often when his mother told him she drifted away, her eyes gone distant and sad.

She missed his father. He knew that. But it made it hard to miss him, sometimes.

He missed his grandfather, he knew that much. He would sit by the lighthouse and watch the shore and wish that he would see his grandfather's skiff sailing in.

He had made little piles of stones near the back of the lighthouse, until his towers could hold little candles of their own.

Sometimes, he would sneak up in the middle of the night and pile up his stones and light the candles, unfurl his spyglass and hope.

Hope that he might catch sight of the billowing sails far off shore, and his grandfather's boat lowering into the waves.

That maybe just once he'd see his father on the prow, body leaning over the rail to tell his grandfather one more thing. Just so he'd have a real memory, something to hold close. Some hint of the man that made him more than a story.

He heard someone whistle in the darkness, and shifted closer to the lighthouse, turning to peer into the darkness. But there was nobody there.

He heard another whistle, and then a splash from the shoreline beneath him. He swept it with his glass, but he couldn't see anything on the shore.

"What is it you be looking for, boy?" A woman's voice asked from just over his shoulder.

He jumped, almost dropping the glass, and swallowed the yelp.

The woman was sitting on her knees, a cape pulled up around her face.

"Who are you?" He knew everyone in the port, and there were no new boats in.

"Never you mind that, child. What you be looking for in the dark?" She asked again.

He hesitated. "My father. He...he captain's a ship."

"Ahhh. The Dutchman." She said, her accent burring the words. "The seas be calm tonight."

"He can't come to shore, even if they are." He looked to the water.

"But you can go to him." The woman offered.

"I couldn't. Mother says I mustn't." He whispered, staring at the shore.

"Your mother be hearin the call of the sea in her bones again." The woman said, dismissive. "The sea be in your blood, boy."

"Grandfather says that too." He said quietly.

The woman laughed. "Bootstrap knows. He's been part o'the sea for long enough."

He looked down. "I've never met him." He confessed, voice soft. "My father. I've never even seen him. He sends grandfather to see me."

"So I will send you to see him." She tapped his forehead lightly.

"Who are you?" He whispered.

"An old friend, the oldest friend." She hummed, brushing her fingers through his hair.

Then she pushed him off the bluff, and he tumbled into the sea that had reared up to take him.

***

Drowning wasn't as frightening as he thought it should be. He sank, or the sea sucked him down, either way the water had closed completely around him.

He clutched at his spy glass, kicking his legs automatically to try to take himself to the surface.

But the water kept pushing him down.

Something solid caught one foot, and then another, and then he was rising out of the water rapidly, gasping for air as his head broke the surface of the waves. He scrambled to his hands and knees, shivering in the cold as footsteps echoed in his waterlogged ears.

He coughed a few times, trying to clear his mouth of the water, looking around for the crazy woman who had thrown him into the water.

Mother would be angry, he hadn't been meant to be out of bed.

"Henry!" Grandfather's voice sounded slightly odd with the water in his ears, but his hands were familiar and secure, helping him to his feet. "How did you get here?"

"I-I was at the lighthouse." His teeth were chattering, he was all wet but grandfather was dry. "She threw me in."

"She?" Grandfather asked, briskly rubbing his shoulders to warm him.

"I don't know her. But she was talking a lot." He confessed. "I was keeping watch till dawn."

Grandfather's face was gentle, and his hands were warm. "The most difficult watch. Who set you to it?"

"I did." His teeth were still chattering. "Why did she throw me in grandpa?"

"Did she say anything?" Grandfather asked, still trying to warm him.

"That she would send me to meet father." He chattered.

Grandfather chuckled. "Well she did that, for certain."

He stilled, surprise halting even the small tremors that were shaking his body. "....she did?"

Grandfather nodded, ruffling his hair, and then placing his hands gently on his shoulders and turning him around.

A tall man who looked like grandfather was standing in the shadow of a staircase, one hand resting on the banister. "I've weighed anchor for the moment. Is he alright?"

"Ask him yourself, Will." Grandfather said gently. "You will find he is quite the talker."

He didn't feel like much of a talker at the moment, his words had gotten all jammed up in his throat.

Grandfather gave him a gentle push forward. "I'll mind the wheel."

His father took a slow step forward, dropping down to a knee, reaching out to touch him.

He shivered a bit, and father unbuckled his belt, shrugging out of his coat, draping it around his shoulders.

The warmth of his father's body wrapped around him, sinking into his bones. "Hello." He whispered, finally, confused.

His father smiled, and it made his face look so much nicer to see. "Hello, Henry."

He took a tentative step forward, wrapping his arms as tight around his father's neck as he could. Father's arm closed around him back, so tight the air rushed out of him, but he didn't want him to let go.


End file.
